Alaska's Story
by Gilboobs
Summary: Well, I'm using OCs. Alaska, Juneau, Moscow, and a few other ones. It's rated "T" to be safe. Warnings: OCs, incest, rape, and human names. I will bump up rating if suggested. ***ON HIATUS***
1. Juneau

Alaska's POV

I never wanted to be like this. And by "this", I mean male, fourteen years old, and nine months pregnant.

My name is Angelle Cristov Braginsky-Jones. My state name is Alaska.

My father is Alfred F. Jones (aka United States of America) and my mother is Ivan Braginsky (aka Russia).

I have blond hair, violet eyes, and pale skin. In other words, I look like Ivan. My bangs cover my left eye. I wore skinny jeans until I was six months pregnant.

Anyway, I was staying in Juneau with Nathaniel Monroe Jones (aka Connecticut) and Tomas Diego Alberto Domingo Martinez-Jones (aka Texas), the only two siblings who cared about me.

On this particular day, I was laying in bed, staring at my stomach.

"My gosh," I said.

"What?" Tomas asked.

"I'm sooo fat…"

Tomas put a hand on my belly. "You're preggo, man. It's gonna happen."

"Yeah… I guess…"

"I've been meaning to ask this, man. Who's the father?"

"Moscow," I mumbled.

I watched Tomas jump back. "He's your brother!"

I looked over at him. "He raped me."

Yes, I was raped by my brother. His full name is Alexei Hung Yao-Braginsky. He's a pervert. A fucking pervert.

Tomas frowned. "I'm sorry, man."

I swallowed back a lump in my throat. "It's okay."

Nathaniel walked in to the house, snow blowing in the open door. He was carrying four bags of groceries.

"Th-there's s-some m-ore i-in th-the c-ar," Nathaniel huffed.

Tomas left his position next to me and dashed out the door, slamming it shut.

I heard him scream, "Why'd you buy so much stuff, man?"

"Because!"

"What'd you get?" I asked.

Nate chortled and ruffled my hair. "Some groceries… and some baby stuff."

I lifted an eyebrow. "What kind of 'baby stuff'?"

"A crib, some formula, some clothes, a blanket, a couple toys, teething rings… the basics, ya know?"

I smiled. "Thanks. You shouldn't have, though."

"Oh, yes I did," Nate informed me. "And you _know_ it. My niece, or nephew, deserves that best. Of course she, or he, could have more than the best, but _absolutely_ nothing less."

"Yeah… hey Con, you're one of the oldest and haven't gotten anyone pregnant and you haven't even _thought_ you've got someone pregnant _and_ you're not pregnant yourself. What's up with that?"

"I don't want kids." Nathaniel said. "They're messy, expensive, and-finally-demanding."

"Yet you buy things for my baby?" I grinned. _"He's totally lost in this one."_

Tomas stormed in, carrying several grocery bags.

"Yes." Nathaniel rubbed his left eye. "It's the baby of my favorite brother, there fore, it's the exception."

Nate saying that made me feel warm and fuzzy.

"Thanks." I grabbed for my blanket, which had fallen off of me onto the floor.

I felt something wet drip down in-between my legs. I mumbled, "Fuck."

"What's wrong, man?" Tomas walked up to my bed and gave me the blanket.

I blushed. "I think I wet myself."

"Get you goddamn ass in the bathroom and change your pants," Nate demanded.

Tomas helped me up. I walked-more like waddled-to the bathroom.

I saw my Hello Kitty pajamas on the floor. I gripped the counter and bent over to pull the pants off the ground.

I caught the west and pulled them up. I shakily stood back up. I took my pants off and threw them on the ground, replacing them with the Hello KittyÒ pants.

Tomas pounded on the door. "Alaska? You all right, man?"

"Ye-ah," I replied.

"Okay."

I reached for the door knob, gently pulling the door open.

Tomas grabbed my hand and drug me to my bed and me lay down.

I fell asleep shortly after.

Later…

I was screaming. I was screaming louder than I ever. I was in such extreme pain, I thought I was going to die.

Nathaniel put his hand on my shoulder. "You should stand up… and walk around a little bit."

"I c-AN'T!"

"Man," Tomas started. "Dad said walking around helps. And you know Dad has been 'Mom' to a few states."

Tomas and Nathaniel helped me up. I felt Nate put his hand on the small of my back.

I ran one of my hands over my belly. "Connecticut… he's not moving… why isn't he moving…" I was in so much pain, I was in some sort of daze.

Nate laughed uneasily. "I-It's probably just getting a bit cramped in there… the baby probably doesn't have room to move…"

Walking around did help… for a while. A particularly contraction tore its way through me. I crouched. Nate crouched down next to me. I began to cry.

"Alaska, I need to check _down there_," My brother told me firmly. "Are you okay with this? You're opinion doesn't count, but I just want you to know…"

I nodded in agreement. "Go ahead. I have no dignity anymore."

Nate assisted me into a position where I was laying down.

Nate stuck his hands up my long coat (which looks like Ivan's) to take off my pajama bottoms. He tossed the pants aside.

"Where's Texas?" I asked.

Nate separated my legs. "He's in the bathroom… I think he doesn't want to watch…"

I suddenly felt Nate's fingers "down there". My breathing hitched.

"You're a little tight bud," Nathaniel said. "But you are opening up."

My brother retracted his fingers. He glanced down at his appendages. The expression on his face became a look of complete horror.

I noticed a thick coating of blood on his fingers. _My_ blood.

"Nathaniel, why am I bleeding?"

Later…

"No more!" I yelled "I can't take it, kill me! Nate, I can't take this any more!"

Nathaniel shot daggers at me. Then I think he realized I was in massive amounts of pain. "No. Angelle. Listen to me. You need to push. And you push your hardest when it hurts the most!"

After he told me that, I pushed as hard as I could. I could feel another gush of blood exit my body.

I noticed Nate's eyes widen. "Angelle! Your baby is crowing! You _need_ to push again!"

I couldn't do that. I had no more strength felt in me. I stopped.

"Angelle, are you all right?" Nate asked. "Angelle? Angelle! Angelle, answer me! _NOW!_"

"I… I can't. I can't do this anymore!"

"Yes you can!" Nate told me. "You know you can! Do for your baby! _Your_ baby!"

That gave me more strength. I pushed once more. I cried out when the shoulders passed. The rest of the infant slid out.

I heard no crying. Nathaniel was staring down at his lap. His face was drained of all feeling.

"Nate… lemme… lemme see him…"

My brother looked up at me. "No… Angelle…"

I sat up. "Let. Me. See. My. Child."

Nate reluctantly gave my baby. I watched him blink. This might sound strange- or it just might be a maternal thing-but it felt his little fluttering heart beat. "He's so beautiful… do we have anything to clean him with?"

Nate gave me a stunned look. "The baby is dead, Angelle. _Dead_."

"If he's dead," I began. "Then why was he looking at me?"

"No, Ange-" Nate stopped. He saw the baby blink. "Well… I'll go get a wash cloth."

I heard him mumble as he walked away, "The baby's alive… but it didn't fucking _cry_… babies, they _do _cry to open their airways, right? This isn't possible… but it… _he_… is alive… I know he's alive… he blinked at me… what the hell… the baby should be dead… fucking dead…" I heard Nate's voice lighten. "But I sure am happy he isn't dead."

I held my baby to my chest. "I love you."

Tomas came out of his bedroom. He'd spent two hours in the bathroom, an hour outside, and five and a half hours in his room.

"Alaska… is the baby… you know… alive?" Tomas asked.

I grinned. "Yeah. He just didn't cry…"

Tomas frowned. "Alaska, the baby-"

"He is alive," Nathaniel began to defend me. "It… he fucking _blinked_ at me, Tex. It… _he_!… is alive."

Nate came next to me and wiped the baby off. Only then did he start to cry.

Tomas laughed. "Well, we definetly is alive."

"You didn't think he was?" I asked.

"I… I wasn't sure, man."

I gave Tomas a dirty look.

"Hey, Angelle, give me your scarf." Nathaniel demanded.

I took it off, handing it to him. Nate wrapped my baby in it.

"What you gonna name him?"

"Juneau. For his city and human name."


	2. Christmas Eve

-1Alaska's POV

Juneau was two days old on Christmas Eve. Papa came up from Washington D.C. to visit Juneau and me. Nathaniel and Tomas went home on the twenty-third, but they said they'd call me on Christmas Day.

Anyway, I was sitting next to Papa. I was-of course-hold Juneau.

Papa sat up a little straighter. "He's beautiful."

"Yes he is." I shifted Juneau's position in my arms.

Papa looked up at me. "I got you a present."

I smiled. "Really?"

He gave me a floppy thing wrapped in red, white, and blue wrapping paper. I used my one free hand and tore the paper off the "floppy".

My eyes welled with tears. "Oh, Papa…" The gift was a blanket with a picture of Papa, Momma, and me when I was two or three. I was sitting on Papa's lap, it appeared I was half-awake. Momma had his head on Papa's shoulder. We were all drinking hot chocolate, I think.

Papa cleared his throat. "I remember that day like it was yesterday. You ate a _lot_ of chocolate."

"Then we started drinking liquid chocolate. _That_ was _real_ healthy."

"Can I hold Juneau?" Papa asked.

I gave my little boy to Papa. I walked into the kitchen to stretch my legs.

I heard Juneau start to cry.

"Little Dude, calm down," Papa said. Juneau continued crying. "Alaska! The Hero isn't good with screaming babies!"

I sighed and calmly walked back into the living room. I took Juneau from Papa's arms.

"Shh. Momma is here. Shh."

Juneau's cries died down. I gently stroked his silky, beautiful, blond hair.

Papa chuckled. "Juneau acts just like how you did. You cried every time I held you. You also cried when Grandma England and Aunt Belarus held you. You loved Grandpa France and Aunt Ukraine."

"I was a nice kid, wasn't I?" I joked. "I'm not shocked about me crying when Aunt Belarus held me… she's a creep."

Papa nodded in agreement.

"I'll be right back."

I walked to Juneau's room and placed him in his crib. I kissed him on his forehead and pulled up the crib railing.

_"This was a great day."_ I thought.


	3. The Good Days

It was January first. Momma had called and said he was going to bring Alexei (yuck) to my house either today or tomorrow, but I didn't count on it. Momma had made many promises that had been broken.

Anyway, Poppa was still at my house. He had told me he was probably going to leave when (if?) Momma got here (My parents still hadn't forgiven each other since the Cold War).

I was busy getting a bottle out of the refrigerator to warm in the microwave with one hand and holding Juneau with the other when someone knocked on the door.

"Poppa! Can you get the door?" I asked.

My dad got off the couch, went to the door, and pulled it open. He slammed it shut immediately.

I looked at my father. "Poppa, who was it?"

"Russia."

I knew my eyes lit up. "Let him in!" I put Juneau's bottle in the microwave.

Poppa grumbled and reopened the door.

Alexei walked in first, shoving Poppa out of the way. Momma followed him in.

"Well," I said, "you made it."

"Yes," Momma answered. Then, he saw Juneau. My mother ran right over. "Aaawww! He's so cute! Who's the father?"

I gave Alexei the dirtiest lock I could possibly muster. Alexei seemed to look rather impressed with himself.

My mother's look became puzzled. "Angelle… what's wrong?"

"Nothing Momma."

Momma looked at me skeptically. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!" I yelled, not meaning for it to be so loud.

I felt Juneau stir in my arms. Next, he began to cry.

"No, Juneau." I lifted him to my chest. "Shh. It's okay. I'm here."

Juneau just wouldn't calm down. I thought of ways to put him back into his usually content state. I then remember a song my mother used to sing to me when I was little:

"_Looly-looly-loolenki_

_Where are you, little doves?  
>Come descend upon the bed<br>Start to growl at little lad.  
>Looly-Looly-Loolenki<br>There come my little doves.  
>There sit they at your head,<br>Wee-wee sleep my little lad."_

Juneau stopped crying and everyone else began to clap.

Momma laughed. "I used to sing that to you, every day.

I gave my mother a closed-lip smiled. "Oh really?"

My mother nodded. "Yes. That was the only song that would get you to sleep." He then looked at my father. "Remember, Alfred?"

My father seemed to reminisce about the days when I was young(er). "Yep. Those were the good days."

_"I wish we still had the good days…" _I thought to myself


End file.
